


The Journals of Kobold

by ZaffreFennec



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Journal entry format, Other, Post-War, Surviving the end, rebuilding civilization - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaffreFennec/pseuds/ZaffreFennec
Summary: A collection of journal entries are scattered on the desk.  Looks like they belonged to someone named Kobold...Oh! This was written by Alphys's father, just after the War ended and Monsters were driven underground.  Read a passage?





	1. Chapter 1

What day is it? Does the distinction between day and night even matter down here? I am so tired. Prince Asgore has had every last monster that survived the last Human attack march without stop into the depths of the earth.  I suppose it's for the best. If we all stayed at the mouth of the cave, it's almost certain Humans would come charging in after us. After so many casualties already from this damn onslaught, I doubt there'd be anyone left that's even capable of fighting.

 

This camp is as pitiful as we all feel now.  All the able monsters have become dust on the wind in their plight to protect their families, the only ones left now are the elderly, the feeble, and children.  I pray for the future of monsterkind.

 

I can barely hold this pen in my claw, I'm so tired.  I didn't think I'd prefer the acrid scorch of the magma caverns we all trudged through, but I'd give anything to be out of this murky, damp, godawful swamp of a place.  Not even the luminescent flora here can redeem it. The darkness is more cloying than the blackest night.

 

Will my baby have to grow up in this pit? They have not even hatched yet and they've already lost so much.  A mother slain in her duty as a medic and an exile from their rightful place to walk beneath the stars, left to cower here indefinitely.  Perhaps one day, my little gem, we can return home. For now, we rest only enough to keep moving.


	2. Chapter 2

As feeling is only now returning to my claws, I will curse this wretched hole until the earth itself turns to dust.  Hah, and I had thought that swamp was the worst of the terrain, but no! The first sign of warning had to have been the thickest fog ever engendered, it brought such a dreadful chill unto me that I feared I'd drop my child’s egg.  Clutching it as tight as I'd dare, I was still so fearful that it would slip from my grasp and shatter like a porcelain vase onto the jagged floor. Even as the danger is past now, I refuse to let it leave my side. That fog was a premonition of the bitterest, most frigid domain yet tracked through.  Snow and ice caked the floors and walls and laced the stalagmites like razors yet undulled by any living touch, and more than a few monsters are nursing wounds on their feet and legs because of it.

 

Even more monsters fared far worse, and it is with no small shame that I was one of them.  While many furred kinds endure the cold fairly, I, being of the lizard folk, and many other hairless sorts, were lucky to make it out alive.  I know I whited out on that trek, the exact where and when escaping me, but I distinctly remember collapsing into the snow in agony as my body temperature plummeted; my scales have no heat of their own and the ice had sapped every last ray of warmth from me.  Blessed are the sons of fire that carried me and others like me to safety.

 

Oh, that is another thing! Our flight from the humans collided us with monsters native to the below.  Now our troupe has both the Fire Tribes and the Spider Clans among us surface dwellers. They're … odd, to put it bluntly. The fire folk speak not a single word to anyone, not even to each other as far as I can tell. Are they incapable of speech, or do they communicate in some inaudible manner? Still, I must find the one that escorted me out of the snow so I can properly thank them. The spiders are queer in their own right, but perhaps a bit less so.  Aside from a few notable exceptions, they are SO TINY. I did not think a race could be so diminutive. Or so commandeering either, as many of their clan leaders are already vying for the Lady Toriel’s graces. Ugh, socialites. There are more pressing issues at hand, you web spinning ninnies!

 

It will be a full day tomorrow.  Once I awake, it will be non-stop scrambling to set up our forces and tend to the injured, so I oughtn’t postpone sleeping any longer.  Goodnight.


	3. Chapter 3

There's such a heavy air of foreboding in our little encampment. The Crown Prince Asgore and the last platoon of Royal Guardsmen stayed behind to barricade the cave’s entrance against any attacks, so by all accounts we should be safe. The finest soldiers and the son of the King himself are at our defense--I even heard that Gerson the Hammer of Justice and Baxter the Warhound are holding the line!-- and the high altitude and difficult passage puts the humans at a significant disadvantage while us monsters have our established base. It is perhaps the one and only strategic advantage we have claimed in this war, bought with an unfathomable sacrifice. And yet…

Nobody here is quite certain what to do, even as the Lady Toriel is doing her best to keep things civil. I and other medics and healers are putting all our strength into patching up everything from broken limbs to frostbite to severe despair, but just as much our efforts are going towards preventing our most elderly and enfeebled patients from fleeing from the camp to fall down. It's so tragic. One orange bird I had to persuade into coming back said that they knew they'd just be a burden, their broken wing would make them dead weight, but further probing gave way to them admitting that they didn't see the point in continuing on if they couldn't live beneath the sky. Upon returning however, Lady Toriel gathered our wards and spoke to them of their bravery in coming this far and that giving up now along the pilgrimage was unconscionable, they were much too loved to be considered burdens and mustn't ever think as such even in these trials. Your grace and patience are unto an angel’s, Toriel. After her speech, we had no more runaways, and the air was but only just more calm. 

Our new arrivals are exceptionally helpful in getting this hole into a right proper home. The spiders are naturally excellent weavers who have been ceaselessly making blankets, that is, when they aren't cooking as well, though I'm not quite certain I can fully appreciate their ethnic cuisine. The Fire Tribes, quiet as they may be, are privy to methods for subterranean ecology, showing us everything from how to find edible fungi to snaring bats. They are even able to create and sustain fey-light with their magic so our few seeds from the surface are not entirely useless, as long as raised beds of compost are constructed on the stone floor. Apparently the finer points of hunting are contentious between the spiders and elementals, as the two peoples are seen to 'correct’ each other's work, often in plain sight. Let us hope there will not be trouble, for their sake.

As for the rest of us, we've been focusing on exploration of the surrounding tunnels, building shelters more durable that tents, and laying down basic water and food processing stations. It's slow goings, but definitely coming together nicely. I'm still hoping that we'll be able to return home sooner than later, though for now we'd best make our new abode sufficiently cozy until then.


	4. Chapter 4

I was able to take the briefest of breaks from my duties as a medic today, and I'm rather pleased to say I made good use of it.  It feels strange to have been sent away from my station by Lady Toriel herself, but she was quite insistent that if I did not take a reprieve at that instant I'd soon collapse like a house without nails.  Regardless, I do appreciate her concern, and if I'm to be frank with myself she certainly wasn't wrong about my state of fatigue at being constantly on-call. So there I found myself, forbidden from work and feeling rather adrift, but like I said, I did put my time to value.

 

The first order of business was necessarily to find the one fire-man that had aided me out of the snow.  It took a good bit of searching, especially as the elementals don't much like to make their presence clamorous, but I did find him as he was helping to construct a shelter in what’s now developing into our little town. I made to express my gratitude fully, but he didn't react very much, just responded with 'it was nothing’ before turning away. That answers the mystery of whether they can talk, but it's just my luck that I managed to bother him with my mannerisms so badly that he didn't care to suffer my presence to talk further.  I probably overdid my thank-you, rambled too much. Ah well, at least I tried to do right.

 

After our meeting and a few much needed errands run, I returned to my abode.  While others have been able to either find suitably habitable caves or have fashioned sturdy enough buildings, I as of yet am still living out of a tent.  You'd think I have a distressing fondness for camping, but it is untrue; I simply haven't had the chance to find better accommodations with the quantity of work I've been under.  I couldn't have been more shocked to realize it's now a full week past since we first settled here! Really ought to allot a day towards constructing an actual house, but not today.  Today I gave myself to my little gem, reading them books as they sat on my lap the whole evening. Being so busy has put me distressingly far from them, and as their mother can only watch over them in spirit, they've spent rather too much time alone.  It's not as if I'm worried they might wander off and hurt themselves excepting some miracle they hatch while I'm away. Rather, it's a well known phenomenon that Soul Seeds that perceive that they've been abandoned return to the earth in the absence of love; without a dedicated and reliable guardian whose magic and stewardship they can nurse upon, they fade like monsters who've fallen.  I have already lost my beloved wife Daphne, I could not bear the agony of losing our child too, nor the cursed thought that our child departed in belief that they were not wanted. Now the day is drawing to a close, and I hold my little gem close to my chest as I begin to succumb to sleep once more. Though our situation is lamentable, looking at them reminds me there is still so much hope left in the world, and I want them to know of every blessing this life can offer.

 

Work begins again tomorrow, and as I finish the day I once more thank Lady Toriel for affording me this rest. It truly was needed.


End file.
